…..it is what it is

Lately I've been talking a lot about mom guilt and guilt as a whole. It's hard to not feel like I'm crumbling under the weight of the world....my world. Lately it's been feeling like my burden is too heavy and there's nobody around to help carry the weight.

I don't know what the future holds but I'm still really hopeful. I'm hopeful that the broken pieces will find their place. I'm hopeful that I'll find love again. I'm hopeful that my kids will face their traumas and heal in a positive way. I'm trying to do everything in my power to make sure they're healthy and happy.

Unfortunately that comes with challenges. We're still in the middle of our storm. As much as I want to convince myself that I see the rainbow at the end, the truth is I'm only imagining it. There's no rainbow.....at least not yet. See, there's that hope again.

Hope is dangerous because it often leads to disappointment. I hope and I daydream of the day when I won't wake up with a headache, of a day when I'll get up and feel truly happy. I'm so tired. Tired of only truly being able to rely on myself. Tired of surviving. Tired of carrying the world on my shoulders. Tired of all the complications that come with adulthood. Tired of being the sole provider. Tired of not knowing the right people. Tired of this fucking guilt that won't leave me alone.

I'm just....so....fucking.....tired.....

Everything about my life is exhausting. Lately I've been feeling like no matter what I do, things don't change. It keeps putting me in this endless, viscious cycle of anxiety, depression, and fake happiness.

I realized recently that I've created an online persona. Between the blog and the podcast, I get to escape and I get to be fake happy for an hour and be just Dory. The funny, crazy, forgetful suburban milf. My instagram is flooded with pictures of me smiling, funny memes, podcast reels and thirst traps.

I'm pretty sure whoever is looking doesn't think I'm going through all the bullshit I'm going through. I guess I've gotten good enough at keeping these overwhelming feelings to myself. These used to be the moments Dave and I would talk and he would make me feel like we were gonna be ok no matter what. He was good at reassuring me of that. Sometimes I wish Angel would do just a little bit of that.

I wonder if Angel is part of the distraction. My happy moments with him make it all go away temporarily. He doesn't even imagine the way his text responses matter when I feel like crumbling. I guess it's the comfort I feel with him. But I'm getting used to the idea of "it is what it is". As much as I'd like to run to him every time so I can feel safe and not crazy, I know that I can't. I know my issues are my own to figure out. I feel like no matter what I do, say or feel, A is just there.

I'm sitting on my bed writing this entry with all these big feelings and emotions that I'm attempting to process. I'm glad Rey is coming over, we're overdue for a vent sesh.

I just want peace. Why is that so much to ask for? Why is it so hard to find it or create it? When will it be my turn to be happy? Truly happy. No bullshit kind of happy. Just minuscule inconveniences that can be dismissed or ignored. I keep hoping I'll get there but sometimes it feels like it just keeps getting further and further away.

Where is my peace?